


Mariposas no Mantequilla

by cortexikid



Series: Schneider’s Choice [4]
Category: One Day at a Time (TV 2017)
Genre: 'schneider's choice' series from penelope's pov, F/M, Penelope’s gut is maybe trying to tell her things, Things about her and Schneider’s relationship, and not soft cheese, or butter or anything else she rationalizes to herself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2019-11-28 05:06:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18203930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cortexikid/pseuds/cortexikid
Summary: Penelope's eyes raked over her own face in the photograph, focusing on how she had felt in that moment.She looked completely relaxed.At ease.At peace.It was then that she noticed the small letters that captioned the picture, a smile spreading across her face as she shook her head gently, a single tear slipping down her cheek.The miracle happened.God, Schneider was unreal sometimes. Nobody could ever astound her quite like he did.





	Mariposas no Mantequilla

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! So, this is part 4 of my Schneider's Choice series and is some of those events from Penelope's POV. The title translates as "Butterflies not Butter" and is the first that doesn't rhyme because Penelope is not Lydia haha. Also, I'm Irish and have no idea how the SATs work, so Google is to blame for any inaccuracies. 
> 
> I'm sorry this series is a little all over the place. I really regret not just making it one giant WIP. But, honestly, I had no idea when I started it that it was gonna grow into...this. So. Hope you enjoy it as it is anyway.

Penelope Alvarez raced through the parking lot, towards her car with the fervour of a woman on a mission. She had to get the hell outta here. Her baby was hurt. Had fallen during baseball practice and could have a broken arm—or worse.

 

But he wasn’t alone. Schneider was with him. Schneider and her Mami, but Penelope had no doubt that her mother would prove to be more of a hindrance than help when it came to her Papito, shock and worry did that to a person.

 

But Schneider. Poor Schneider. It was his first time properly out with Alex since his fall off the wagon. This must have been eating him up inside.

 

Penelope tried her best to keep calm as she scanned Schneider’s multiple texts, bypassing the many missed calls and hitting speed dial 1. She couldn’t help cringing with the thought of what Schneider would possibly say if he ever found out that he was number one on her speed dial. Not her mom, or the kids (2, 3, and 4 respectively), but her dorky gringo landlord.

 

Although, he had to know by now that he was a hell of a lot more than that.

 

_Didn’t he?_

 

The phone barely rang once before he picked up.

 

“Hey Pen, try not to worry. I got everything under control,” he answered before she had a chance to utter one syllable, his tone calm and collected.

 

The tightness in Penelope’s chest loosened a little at his voice.

 

“Meet you at the hospital?” she rasped quietly, worry getting the better of her as she threw her purse on the passenger-side seat and she slammed her car door.

 

“Yep, yeah, we’ll be there in five minutes.”

 

She nodded as if he could see her before catching herself. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she murmured, “Thank you, Schneider.”

 

“Any time, Pen. I got you.”

 

She bit her lip as those words reached her ear, they stirring something unknown in her that she didn’t have the time or energy to try figure out right now. Her baby needed her.

 

But in the meantime? He had Schneider.

 

~*~

 

She walked into her apartment to quite the sight.

 

There were more flashcards scattered across the floor than Penelope had probably used in all of her study sessions combined. And right there, in all the chaos of paper, coffee cups and Doritos debris, sat her eldest child, brow furrowed in concentration as her study-buddy, who sat cross-legged opposite her, read aloud from one of the many coloured cards.

 

“The prior passage was adapted from Hillary Rodham Clinton’s speech titled ‘Women’s Rights Are Human Rights’, addressed to the U.N. Fourth World Conference on Women in 1995. The fifth paragraph can be described as: one, a distillation of the author’s main argument, two, an acknowledgement of a counterargument, three, a veiled criticism of a group, or four, a defense against an accusation?”

 

Schneider gasped out the entire question all in one breath before pausing dramatically, awaiting Elena’s answer, chin in hand.

 

The teen’s eyes narrowed as she processed the novel-length question before she took a deep breath and replied, her confidence growing with each word: “Well, because Rodham-Clinton goes into specific detail in that paragraph to provide examples of freedom, and specifically states what she means by freedom and accuses some of failing to respect others’ freedom – the answer would have to be, three, a veiled criticism of a group.”

 

She too gasped out her answer all in one breath, clamping her hand over her mouth in anticipation.

 

The bespectacled buddies engaged in a slit-eyed staring competition as the elder kept the younger in suspense, glancing from her, down to the card, and back to her several times.

 

“Oh, come on, Schneider! Put me outta my—”

 

“Cooooorrrrreccccct!” 

 

Elena thumped him on the shoulder before squealing in delight, leaping forward and enveloping him in an excited hug that he heartily returned.

 

“Ten outta ten, baby, woooooooo!”

 

“Told ya you could do it, kid!”

 

The two didn’t even notice Penelope as she stepped further into the room, shutting the door behind her, an amused smile crossing her face as they enthusiastically celebrated Elena’s triumph.

 

“Well, looks like today was another study success,” she called over their chorus of jubilation.

 

They both whirled around at her voice, blinking owlishly behind their glasses, matching grins on their faces.

 

Penelope tilted her head at them. It wasn’t the first instance where she was struck by the notion that her best friend really could pass for her daughter’s father, she and him looking remarkably similar at times, both in appearance and mannerisms.

 

They were cute.

 

With a wince, she shook that thought from her head. What a dumb thing to think. What was wrong with her? Not that Elena wasn’t cute. Her baby girl was the cutest. But not because she reminded Penelope of Schneider. That was what was dumb.

 

“Elena is well on her way to SAT stardom, Pen. She’s killin’ it!”

 

Penelope’s heart fluttered as she watched her daughter be visibly touched by her friend’s words, clearly appreciating the praise, even as she scoffed, waving her hand dismissively.

 

“Schneider is too easily impressed, Mom. I’m not killin’ it. Just…lightly…assaulting it?”

 

The two friends threw her puzzled looks.

 

Elena glanced from Penelope to Schneider and back again before holding up her hands and rolling her eyes, “Okay, okay, so it’s not a perfect analogy. Sue me.”

 

With that, she stood up off the floor, holding out her hand for Schneider to take. The large ex-Canadian allowed himself to be pulled up, comically slipping a little in his socks before righting himself and walking over to Penelope with a crooked smile, taking both of the grocery bags off her and shuffling into the kitchen.

 

She watched him go for a moment, then turned to her daughter.

 

“Go wash up for dinner. Alex is at Jason’s tonight and Mami is with Dr Berkowitz. So, it’s just us three.”

 

The fact that Schneider was included in dinner wasn’t even in question.

 

Elena nodded, her whole face alight in an excited expression that Penelope was afraid she wouldn’t see for quite a while with her anxiety attacks becoming more and more prevalent as the SATs loomed.

 

She knew she could trust Schneider to make sure her daughter didn’t run herself into the ground with anxiety and stress. It was clear that they had gotten a lot of work done today, but Elena was noticeably less burdened with exhaustion and frayed nerves that usually followed a cram-session. And that was down to Schneider.

 

Turned out he wasn’t just a guru at calming Penelope down.

 

“You and Schneider have a good day?” she asked quietly as Elena gathered up her books and began making her way out of the room.

 

Her daughter turned on the spot, a small smile on her face, her eyes shining bright behind her glasses, “Yeah, mom. We did. He’s a great study-buddy.”

 

With that, she whirled back around, practically skipping towards her bedroom, shoulders straight and head held high.

 

Pride bloomed in Penelope’s chest as she watched her go, before her gaze was drawn towards the kitchen to where she could hear the man in question humming along to one of her Mami’s tunes, his hips no doubt wiggling about in his ridiculous, white-boy way.

 

Shaking her head in amusement, she made her way in, not surprised that yeah, she was one-hundred percent right. Schneider was doing some sort of conga-like step around her kitchen as he put away the array of groceries, never once faltering. He really did know the place inside out.

 

The people too, it seemed.

 

“Schneider?”

 

He paused, mid-twirl, to catch her eye, café bustelo in one hand and bread in the other.

 

“Que pasa, chica?”

 

She rolled her eyes at his choppy Spanish, the small smile on her face ruining any real attempt at exasperation. Slowly, she stepped closer to him, leaning her elbows on the kitchen island and tipping her chin up at him.

 

“How was she today?”

 

The words were quiet, softer than her usual timbre.

 

Schneider returned her gaze, leaning down and mirroring her stance.

 

“She had a small hiccup earlier. But we dealt with it. No biggie.”

 

She knew he was being deliberately nonchalant. Trying to put her at ease like he no doubt put her daughter at ease that afternoon.

 

She reached out and lay her hand on his.

 

“Yes biggie, Schneider. Thank you for being there for her.”

 

A gentle smile broke out on his face, then. His eyes shining a little behind his glasses, delight lighting them up.

 

“Any time, Pen. I got you. All of you.”

 

Warmth pooled in her stomach as she stared up at him, those words settling in her chest and making themselves comfortable. It wasn’t the first time she had heard them, not even the first time she heard them from Schneider, but knowing now that the ‘you’ was plural, that that ‘you’ included not just her, but her children, her mother, probably even Dr Berkowitz too, meant a hell of a lot, the weight of it seeping into her veins.

 

There weren’t many things that left Penelope speechless.

 

But a sincere Schneider was one of them.

 

After what must have been a solid three seconds without her managing a response, Schneider lay his free hand down over hers, patting it gently before slowly sliding his other out from under hers.

 

“Well, I’ll leave you guys to it. I gotta skedaddle.”

 

Penelope frowned, but not just because of his usage of ‘skedaddle.’ She watched wordlessly as he made his way back out of the kitchen, slipping on his sneakers and glancing around the room, no doubt searching for his jacket.

 

“Oh, uh,” she mumbled, spotting his jacket hanging on the back of one of the dining chairs and picking it up, clasping it tightly in her fingers, “you…can’t stay for dinner?”

 

He stepped towards her, hands out for his garment.

 

Reluctantly, she let it slip through her fingers into his.

 

“Yeah, sorry Pen,” he mumbled, eyes not quite meeting hers as he took his jacket from her and deftly slid it on, “Avery called earlier and…wants to meet for dinner, so…”

 

He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck, turning on his heel.

 

Penelope shuffled towards the couch, resting her hand on the back of it as she watched her gangly neighbour make his way to the door.

 

“So, looks like I won’t be crashing your and Elena’s girls’ night,” he threw over his shoulder before raising his voice slightly to shout, “Bye, Elena!”

 

“OH, BYE SCHNEIDER!” the teen yelled from her room, “AND THANK YOU! YOU’RE THE BEST!”

 

He turned, then. And Penelope caught the bashful grin lining his face, making him appear much younger than his 40-something years.

 

Blue eyes met brown.

 

“Bye, Pen.”

 

She stared at the tinge of red flushing his cheeks, his expressive gaze again dancing in the light behind his glasses.

 

He was a giant, affection-deprived dork.

 

And she wouldn’t have him any other way.

 

None of the Alvarezes would.

 

Well, apart from ridding him of that deprivation, obviously.

 

The giant dork could stay.

 

“Bye, Schneider,” she smiled. “Have fun. Tell Avery I said hey.”

 

He nodded silently, raising his hand in a little wave as he opened the door and stepped out into the hallway, closing it behind him with a soft snap.

 

Penelope stared at it for a moment, puzzled by the heaviness in her chest and shoulders, before shaking herself and calling out to her daughter, “Elena! How do you feel about take-out and face-masks?”

 

~*~

“Hey! Elena! That’s not fair, I’m wounded!” Alex was yelling from his position on their couch, looking a mixture of sorrowful and affronted as his sister did—something—to his character in the videogame they were playing. Or at least that’s what Penelope thought was happening, who knew really. She sure didn’t.

 

“Oh my god, stop being so dramatic,” Elena responded with a roll of her eyes as her fingers worked deftly over the controller.

 

“I have a fractured arm, you monster! A _nice_ person would—no, no! Damn! Elena!”

 

“Whoa…” a new voice entered amid the siblings’ squabble, “Elena, you’re annihilating him, girl. Up top!”

 

Alex let out a scoff of indignation, throwing his uninjured arm up as Schneider and Elena high-fived. Penelope glanced up from where she was chopping vegetables, just in time to see Schneider pat her son gently on the shoulder, holding out his favourite flavour of ice-cream as a peace-offering. Alex looked from it, to Schneider, and back again, snatching it from him one-handed.

 

“You’re forgiven. Elena, you’re not.”

 

“Good, because I wasn’t apologising,” she snarked, throwing down the controller, “Hey, Avery, how are you?”

 

Penelope’s eyes snapped back up from her task, realising that she had missed Schneider’s girlfriend’s presence.

 

“I’m good thanks, Elena, how are you?”

 

“She’s too competitive for her own good,” Penelope interjected half-heartedly, “her brother too.”

 

“Who do you think we get it from?” The siblings replied in unison, duel looks of smugness on their faces.

 

“You owe each other cokes,” Schneider piped up as he and Avery (who was chuckling at the exchange) made their way towards the kitchen.

 

Penelope’s mother was making her emergency enchiladas. They were her signature dish for everything from heart-break to broken limbs. In this instance, with her papito’s recent injury, it was the latter. And so, she set her daughter to work, while Lydia “got ready” for dinner. Which, knowing her Mami like she did, Penelope surmised was bound to be a production of sorts.

 

“Alex, no ice-cream before dinner, in the freezer please,” she called out to her son, who no doubt thought that his and Schneider’s exchange went unnoticed.

 

Her boy sighed, incredibly put upon, standing up and slowly following the couple, dragging his feet heavily, muttering under his breath.

 

“Drama queen,” his sister snorted, barely audible, focus back on the TV.

 

“Something smells nice in here, Penelope,” Avery smiled a little awkwardly over the familia-dispute, not quite as used to it as her boyfriend who was already crossing the room and holding the freezer door out for Alex, as if on autopilot.

 

They both stared at the tub forlornly before the teen deposited it, Schneider shutting the door almost in slow-motion.

 

“Drama queens. Both of you,” Penelope remarked, in awe, again not for the first time, of how much influence Schneider had over her children.

 

“It’s rocky road,” they both responded in unison, as if that explained everything.

 

“…are they always like this?” Avery asked quizzically as she saddled up to Penelope and took up one of the knives that Lydia had abandoned by some half-chopped tomatoes to go do…whatever it was she did pre-dinner.

 

“Pretty much,” Penelope shrugged, not quite managing a roll of her eyes as she watched Schneider quietly talk to her son by the fridge, his hand clasping his shoulder warmly in a side-hug, the two smirking about something.

 

Always conspiring, those two. She knew when not to ask.

 

Avery followed her line of sight, watching the two guys for a moment, an indistinguishable expression on her face. Penelope watched her watch them out of the corner of her eye, something heavy settling in the pit of her stomach, her appetite for enchiladas, emergency or otherwise, a little in question.

 

“Thanks for the help,” she forced herself to plough through whatever weirdness had overcome her in that moment, catching the other woman’s eye, “god knows where Mami has got to. This is her recipe, I’m just tapping in.”

 

 Avery smiled at her, the rest of the tomatoes now chopped, “Well, smells like you’re doing a good job. Your mom must have taught you well.”

 

Penelope chuckled, jerking her head over her shoulder at Schneider, “I think she taught _him_ better.”

 

Avery’s eyebrows raised to her hairline.

 

Schneider, who had overheard their discussion, shuffled over to them and looked down at their progress.

 

“Not bad, ladies. Not bad.”

 

Penelope scoffed, smacking him on the arm with the dishcloth she had had draped over her shoulder.

 

“Oh, like you could do better, Hipster Gordon Ramsey.”

 

Her grinned at her, “I mean, I did learn from the best, so—”

 

“Sí, you did,” another voice interjected.

 

Four pairs of eyes landed on the kitchen doorway, where Lydia Riera, dressed in one of her nicest frocks, now stood, leaning against it, head held high, one hand on her hip, the other raised mid-air to punctuate her point.

 

“Avery, you remember my mother. The human exclamation point,” Penelope remarked drily, adding the last of the tomatoes to the salad and shoving the bowl in Schneider’s hands, shooing him towards the door.

 

“Yes, Lydia, always nice to see you,” the bespectacled woman grinned, “I was just saying how good everything smells. I’ve heard all about your legendary enchiladas.”

 

The older woman’s eyes sparkled at the praise, “Ah, sí. Schneider is one of their biggest fans.”

 

Penelope rolled her eyes as her mother pushed Schneider back into the living room, leaving her and Avery to do the rest of the work, Alex hot on their heels, awkwardly operating his phone one-handed. Quietly, she watched through the partition as Schneider gently placed the salad bowl on the table, his eyes dancing back and forth between Elena and Lydia, nodding animatedly in agreement as she spoke.

 

“He really adores your mom,” Avery piped up after a moment, clearly watching her boyfriend interact with Lydia too.

 

“Yeah,” Penelope agreed quietly, “for a guy with five moms…he’s really deprived of motherly affection.”

 

Avery hummed in agreement, chuckling a little as Schneider, Elena and Alex all wandered over to the PlayStation, starting up another game, already yelling as Lydia watched on, befuddlement clouding her face at their antics.

 

“He adores the kids too,” Avery said quieter this time, her eyes highly focussing on pouring the lemonade into the jug, “he’s…good with them.”

 

Penelope paused as a particularly loud chorus of cheering flooded the apartment. Like a magnet, her eyes were drawn to her kids and Schneider, the latter high-fiving an elated Elena as Alex begrudgingly patted his shoulder in congratulations.

 

“Yeah,” she smiled, “he really is.”

 

She could feel a heavy gaze at the side of her face, hating that her cheeks were heating up a little. Stepping back over to the stove, she cleared her throat as she began to stir.

 

“So, how’s work, Ave—”

 

“I don’t think he wants his own.”

 

Penelope froze, spoon mid-way to her lips. Slowly, she eased it back down, her brain racing a mile a minute.

 

“Has he…has he said anything to you about it? If he ever wants kids someday?”

 

Penelope tensed, not wanting to turn back around to meet the other woman’s gaze but forced herself to anyway.

 

“Avery, I…I’m sorry, but this is probably a conversation that—”

 

She held up her hands, cutting Penelope off, an apologetic smile on her face.

 

“You’re right, you’re right, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to put you in an awkward position. It’s just…I know you’re Schneider’s best friend and he…confides in you,” she paused, wringing her hands, throwing a nervous glance over her shoulder.

 

“I guess…it’s just something I’ve been thinking about more and more lately.”

 

Penelope remembered what that felt like. It didn’t mean she knew what to say, however. On one hand, she wanted to comfort the woman, but one the other, she didn’t want to potentially give her false hope or end up putting Schneider into an awkward situation down the road. Sighing, she wiped her hands on the dish cloth and stepped back over to the chopping board, gathering up the jug to place it beside the glasses with an appreciative smile.

 

“All I can say is, if you both ever did decide to have kids…Schneider would be a great dad.”

 

The words felt like ash in her mouth. She frowned, her stomach twisting a little as she watched Schneider high-five both her kids, child-like grin on his face.

 

What she spoke was the truth, she just didn’t know why it made her so queasy to say.

 

She forced down the uncomfortable feeling that was rolling in her gut, ignoring the weighted gaze that Avery had levelled her way not for the first time that evening.

 

“Alright, everybody! The videogame can wait. Dinner’s ready.”

 

Penelope just hoped her Mami’s emergency enchiladas were distracting enough for the schoolteacher to drop her line of questioning for good.

 

However, something told her, nothing could be _that_ good.

 

_Should she warn Schneider? Was it her place to?_

_And warn him of what, exactly? That Avery mentioned that she thinks he doesn’t want kids? Was it fair of Penelope to tell him that?_

 

She could feel the anxiety permeating in her, steadily seeping into the rest of her body as she forced herself to focus on the task at hand – plating the enchiladas. She felt rather than saw Avery at her elbow, trying to make herself useful but clearly at a loss of what to do.

 

“You go take a seat, Avery. I got this,” she smiled tightly, as the other woman nodded, stepping away, tray of lemonade and glasses carefully balanced in hand.

 

There was a tension in the kitchen, one laden with awkwardness, one that both women didn’t fail to pick up on.

 

“Everything okay, Lupita?” her mother asked quietly than she ever has, suddenly appearing at her side.

 

Penelope startled, but recovered quickly.

 

“Ay, Mami! Wear a bell.”

 

Lydia quirked a perfectly plucked-eyebrow at her. Penelope sighed.

 

“Everything’s fine. I got these if you wanna grab yours and Alex’s?”

 

She wasn’t sure if her tone was believable or not, but to Lydia’s credit, she merely nodded and gathered up her and Alex’s plates without comment.

 

Penelope watched her go for a moment, taking one deep breath, then another, then another. She could hear Schneider practically squeal with delight as the enticing smell wafted out with Lydia to the party at the table. Taking another final deep breath, she grabbed the remaining plates—hers, Elena’s, Schneider’s and Avery’s, balancing them perfectly on her arms just like she used to back in her waitressing days.

 

“Oh my god, Pen. They look just as amazing as they smell.”

 

A soft smile formed on her face as she rolled her eyes, placing the plate down in front her friend. But before she could reply, she heard Dr Berkowitz’s tell-tale knock at their front door. He was just on time. She gladly took the distraction, coaxing the rest of the table to dig in before she crossed the room, holding the door open, revealing her even-more-than-usual forlorn boss.

 

Penelope took in his glassy eyes and furrowed brow, worry creeping into her veins.

 

“Come on in, Dr Berkowitz,” she stepped aside, gently clasping his elbow, “everything okay?”

 

The doctor heaved a heavy sigh, alerting the attention of the entire table, particularly Lydia, who scooted her chair back with a loud screech, eyes narrowed as she awaited his reply.

 

“Everything’s fine, Penelope…” Leslie replied, sounding anything but fine, “It’s just that my daughter is threatening to run-off to Cancun with her Improv group and I thought we were really making progress.”

 

Penelope shoved down her initial reaction of doubt that his daughter belonged to anything close to an improv group, and instead led her boss towards the table, slowly lowering him into one of the chairs beside her mother who automatically reached over and patted his arm.

 

“It’s okay, Leslie,” Lydia murmured gently, “I have prepared for this. Lupita–mi enchiladas de emergencia, por favor.”

 

 _¡Qué alivio!_ Penelope thought to herself. She could always rely on her boss to provide a distraction in times of stress.

 

She stepped into the kitchen and began quickly plating up the doctor’s serving and rushed back out, trying to read the room, scanning each face for a clue. Elena looked concerned, and Penelope could figure why, knowing that she had helped the doc reconnect with Rachel only last year. Alex looked a mix of concerned and bewildered, his default whenever it came to Dr B, and Schneider seemed as if he was half a second away from crying and pulling the older man into a tight bear-hug.

 

Her eyes finally landed on Avery, who was busy looking at Schneider, squeezing his hand, an enigmatic expression on her face.

 

“I guess I just—” Dr Berkowitz was in the middle of saying as Penelope put the food down in front of him, “Oh, thank you, Penelope. This looks lovely.”

 

“Sí, she learns from the best,” Lydia cut in, before patting his arm again, “Continue, Leslie.”

 

The doc cleared his throat, his eyes drawn to her mother as they so frequently are, “I guess I just…thought that were getting somewhere, you know? I felt like I could make up for lost time, be the Dad I always wanted to be, but now…I won’t get the chance. You know?”

 

Penelope saw Schneider shift a little in his seat out of the corner of her eye.

 

The odd feeling began churning in her gut again.

 

She reached out and patted her Leslie’s shoulder, “Whatever happens, doc, we’ll get you through it. As a family. For now, try some of Mami’s enchiladas. They’ll help.”

 

Leslie smiled gently, one that Penelope steadily returned.

 

“Well said, Lupita,” Lydia nodded, raising her water glass in the air and opening her mouth to call out, and Penelope swore if her mother was actually going to toast the enchiladas she would— “To enchiladas!”

 

Penelope scrambled for her own glass, chuckling at her mother’s capers as they all clinked glasses, their voices a chorus of positivity, “To enchiladas!”

 

She found her gaze drawn back to Schneider and Avery, the former heartily clinking his water with Elena, eyes shinning bright. Avery, however, was still focussed on her boyfriend’s face, whatever had been on her own face before even more evident now.

 

Penelope’s gut was churning butter at this point.

 

She couldn’t shake the feeling that something that had started out as enchilada night had turned into something else altogether.

 

She just didn’t know what.

 

~*~

She woke with a start, shooting bolt upright in her bed. Sweat clung to her skin, her sleep-shirt plastered to her back as her heart hammered in her chest. Her eyes bounced uneasily around the room, searching for something in the darkness to ground her. Through the gloom, she could just about make out the family photo that stood propped on her bedside table.

 

Taking deep breaths, she scanned the familiar faces – her Mami, Elena, and Alex huddled either side of her as Dr. Berkowitz and Schneider stood tall behind them all, wrapping their long arms around the Alvarezes, matching cheesy grins on their faces as they posed for the photographer.  

 

And there, right in the centre of the frame, decked out in her white robe and cap, stood Penelope Alvarez, caught mid-laugh at one of Schneider’s ridiculous quips.

 

Penelope’s eyes zeroed in on her own face, forcing herself to focus on the exchange that had made her eyes shine that bright and smile that wide.

 

“Look at you,” Schneider had said with a teasing grin, “You look straight outta the final scene in Legally Blonde,” he made a ‘tada’ motion mid-air, “the Latina Elle Woods!”

 

She had rolled her eyes at that, snorting at his antics.

 

“She was a lawyer, not a nurse, Schneider.”

 

The ex-Canadian froze for a millisecond, before shrugging, “Still a badass feminist icon, Pen. You’re like the Elle to my Paulette.”

 

She threw her head back, laughter over-taking her just seconds before the photographer surprised them with an impromptu snap.

 

Penelope kept picturing the exchange in her mind as she slowly unclenched her fists from around the comforter. Her heart rate was beginning to decrease, but her nightmare still threatened to smother that happy memory. Before she knew it, she had thrown back the covers and was padding out of her room, not even bothering with her sneakers.

 

She was out the door, up the stairs and in Schneider’s hallway before her racing brain caught up with her.

 

It wasn’t that late. She had fallen asleep earlier than usual. Still, this wasn’t the first time she had found herself outside the familiar door since Schneider had fallen off the wagon. She probably shouldn’t add any stress to him right now. He had just gotten back together with Avery at Victor’s wedding a couple of months ago, was still agonising over every little thing that could go wrong in their tenuous reconnection. Penelope really didn’t want to potentially wake her already anxious friend.

 

But then she heard his voice in her head ask, “You had a nightmare? Why didn’t you come to me, Pen? You know I’m always up for some decaf and late-night chats. That’s what besties are for,” something he had said many times before when she hesitated to disrupt him. So, she forced herself to take another step towards the door.

 

It was then that she heard a very familiar laugh come from behind the door, stopped her poised hand that was ready to knock, in its tracks.

 

Avery was in Schneider’s apartment.

 

With Schneider.

 

Late at night.

 

She had to get out of here.

 

Now.

 

Her cheeks flushed as she forced her feet to move, high-tailing it quickly and quietly back towards the stairs.

 

 _What was she thinking?_ It was just a stupid nightmare. She shouldn’t have come. Schneider may be her best friend, but he was also someone else’s boyfriend. Someone who probably wouldn’t appreciate her barging in on them, shaken and distressed over a dumb dream about having to give up her job because they mixed up her exam results, found out she actually got the worst Board Exam score in history and took her diploma away from her.

 

She could deal with this alone. She had before, and she could again.

 

With a shaky sigh, she unlocked her apartment door, stepping in and closing it with a soft snap behind her. She rested her forehead against it for a moment, her eyes slipping closed as she collected herself. Slowly, she counted to ten in her mind. First in Spanish, then in English. It was when she reached “siete” that she decided to just ignore the uncomfortable swirl in her gut and go the hell back to bed.

 

She was being ridiculous.

 

She peeled her forehead off the door, took a steadying breath and locked up. After hearing the satisfied click, she hung her keys back up and tip-toed across the room, dangerously aware of her mother’s light sleeping. She finally let out a breath she didn’t realise she had been holding in when she made it back into the ominous gloom that was her bedroom.

 

It took her barely two seconds of being back in that room for the lingering dread to spread back under every inch of her skin.

 

“Dammit,” she hissed in annoyance, forcing her tired limbs back into bed.

 

She stared up at the ceiling, folding her hands on her abdomen and willing her eyes to grow heavy with tiredness.

 

A minute passed.

 

Two.

 

Seven.

 

“Shit,” she sighed, turning on her side, her eyes falling onto her bedside locker where her cell phone still sat.

 

She reached out and clasped it tight in her hand, fingers deftly tapping until she found what she was looking for.

 

Dozens and dozens of pictures of dogs in wigs.

 

Pigs in sunglasses.

 

Cats in sweaters.

 

Every conceivable animal-clothes-combination that Schneider could possibly find, had been sent to Penelope in her time of need that she promptly saved in her phone under the folder “Anti-Anxiety Meds.” It was her own, personal, private joke. She knew that her anti-depressants and actual anti-anxiety medication were doing their job, took them every day, but in moments like these, this folder gave her that little bit extra to get her through it.

 

Slowly, she scrolled through picture after picture, a small smile forming on her face at the cute, furry muzzles.

 

Cat in hoodie.

 

Duck in top hat.

 

Dog in Cher wig.

 

Schneider in feather boa.

 

Pig in—

 

_Wait—what?_

 

She swiped back to the previous picture, staring at it for several seconds before a chuckle bubbled up her throat, surprising her.

 

There, standing her in living room, stood Schneider, winking at the camera with two thumbs up, rainbow-coloured feather boa wrapped around his neck.

 

Penelope remembered this. It had been last year’s Pride Parade that all the Alvarezes, Schneider and Dr Berkowitz had accompanied Elena and Syd on.  She herself had worn a “I’m Proud of my Lesbian Daughter” tank top, but her Mami out-staged them all, rocking up to the gathering with a rainbow-coloured frock, matching fascinator fixed atop her head.

 

Elena had cried.

 

Schneider had cried too. Right before this picture was taken it seemed, if the slightly reddened eyes were any indication.

 

She didn’t remember this picture being taken, though. She guessed it was Alex’s doing, but she knew well it wasn’t him who had slotted it into this folder.

 

Only Schneider knew about her anti-anxiety folder that she had carefully hidden behind several empty folders in her phone.

 

He must have known she’d get a kick out of seeing him decked out in a feather boa, rainbow-slacks and sprayed purple hair.

 

And he was right. He looked ridiculous.

 

She loved hi—

 

 _It._ What? Ha. Dumb, tired brain. _It_. She loved _it._ His dumb antics that never failed to make her smile.

 

She quickly swiped away from the photo, hoping whatever weird train of thought would swipe away with it, her thumb rapidly flicking over several pictures in a blur, heart rate picking back up at her wandering mind. Jesus, that nightmare had really messed her up. What the hell was wrong with her? Sleep deprivation was clearly taking its toll.

 

That thought had barely left her brain when her thumb stalled on another unexpected picture. She was in this one. It had been taken the morning of her graduation, as she was getting her hair done. Her eyes were closed, her head tilted back, her face the most serene that it had been for the majority of that day, smooth, void of any furrows, or anxiety lines or red-rimmed eyes. That had come later.

 

Here, she looked completely relaxed.

 

At ease.

 

At peace.

 

Penelope eyes raked over her face, focussed on how she had felt in that moment. The calm before the storm that was the graduation ceremony.

 

It was then that she noticed the small letters that captioned the photo, a small smile spreading across her face as she shook her head gently, a single tear slipping down her cheek.

 

_**The miracle happened.** _

__

God, Schneider was unreal sometimes.

 

Nobody could ever astound her quite like he did.

Warmth pooled in the pit of her stomach as she noticed that there, right under those gut-punching words, was another, smaller line that she had to squint to read.

_**Remember this moment when things get too much. Remember how you felt. You’ll get there again.** _

Yeah. It was definitely Schneider who had taken this. Had written this. She would know that deep in her bones, even without the miracle reference. Not Alex, not her Mami, not Elena. This was Schneider’s doing. He must had seen her, in that moment, and decided to capture it forever. Knowing that she may need to remember it one day. On a bad day. At a time like now.

 

When he wasn’t around.

 

She shook her head again, harder this time. She had to stop thinking like that. Schneider couldn’t be her only lifeline, her only raft to cling to in her sea of anxiety. She had to gain more coping skills that went beyond barging into his apartment in the middle of the night to accidentally smear snot on the shoulder of his robe and scrolling through his surplus of animal memes.

 

This felt like something she should probably bring up to group.

 

~*~

 

She wasn’t gonna bring it up in group.

 

She couldn’t possibly bring it up in group.

 

“Penelope…anything you wanna add?”

 

She could feel seven pairs of eyes zero in on her.  She had to say _something_. Dammit.

 

“I’ve…been working on my anxiety coping-mechanisms.”

 

_There. Good. No need to elaborate._

 

Pam leaned forward, eyebrows raised, clearly surprised.

 

Penelope tried not to be offended. She failed.

 

“What?” she scoffed, throwing up her hands, “I just thought I needed a little shake up, that’s all.”

 

She could feel the confusion in their silence.

 

“So…” Pam began, adjusting her notes on her knee, “are meditation and confiding in Schneider not working anymore?”  

 

Penelope’s stomach lurched.

 

“No, they are, but…” she trailed off and saw Ramona and Jill exchange a glance out of the corner of her eye.

 

“But I can’t _just_ rely on Schneider, you know? He—” she shifted in her chair, “He has a life outside of my anxiety attacks. I can’t keep—”

 

“It’s the girlfriend, right?” Jill cut across her, all business as usual, leaning on her elbows and fixing Penelope with a knowing look from across the half-circle.

 

“Oh my god, Hipster Ryan Reynolds has a girlfriend?” Cynthia asked, sounding both intrigued and dejected.

 

Penelope stared at her, “‘Hipster Ryan Reynolds’? Really?’”

 

Cynthia shrugged, marking off on her fingers, “He’s Canadian. He’s hot. He wears glasses. It fits.”

 

The group made a murmur of agreement, Beth letting out a low wolf-whistle.

 

Penelope wasn’t sure exactly what her face was doing, but judging by Jill, it wasn’t something she agreed with.

 

“Come on, Penelope, don’t play dumb,” her friend pointed at her with her coffee cup, “The only reason you’re not comfortable with letting Schneider be your calming, white-noise machine or whatever anymore, is because he’s gotten back together with his girlfriend. And it’s serious.”

 

The group let out a high-school-like chorus of ‘Ooooooooh.’

 

Before Penelope could do much more than roll her eyes, Pam interjected, “Okay, okay, take it down a notch, teenagers,” she lightly scolded before turning directly to Penelope, “ _Is_ that why you’re not comfortable confiding in your friend anymore Penelope?”

 

She opened her mouth to immediately deny that _no, of course not, don’t be ridiculous_ but instead, all that came out was air.

 

_Shit._

 

“I—” she cleared her throat, wiling her racing brain to give her something, anything to try and express whatever it was she was feeling.

 

“I don’t really know if it’s appropriate anymore.”

 

Those words fell from her lips without conscious thought.

 

She blinked in surprise.

 

_What the hell did she mean by that?_

 

“…Because he has a girlfriend,” Jill needled gently, “and you feel that that may be overstepping some boundary now. Right?”

 

Penelope’s eyes shot to her friend’s, “I didn’t realise you were taking over Pam’s job, Jill.”

 

She did not mean that to sound so defensive, and by the look on Jill’s face, she wasn’t expecting it either.

 

“Damn, Jill,” Ramona hissed theatrically, “You want some ice for that burn?”

 

“Okay, okay ladies,” the actual Pam interjected, hands held up, “We’re coming to the end anyway, so let’s shelve this conversation for next time, shall we?”

 

Guilt swirled in Penelope’s stomach. She caught Jill’s eye and threw her a soft, apologetic smile, hoping she got the message.

 

Judging by the returning smile and nod—she did.

 

Penelope couldn’t help but replay the scene in her head all the ride home in the car, though.

 

She knew that Jill hadn’t said anything that enlightening, really. Penelope had thought as much herself that night, standing outside Schneider’s apartment, Avery’s laughter ringing in her ears. She did rely on Schneider too much. After all, she wasn’t the most important woman in his life any—no, she was never the most important woman in Schneider’s life. That position went to Avery. (And probably with her Mami beating out them both as most important person overall, if she was honest.) Still, it meant that Penelope had no right to barge in on the couple in the middle of the night.

 

That went above and beyond what was expected of a best friend to deal with.

 

And that’s what she was.

 

The best friend.

 

But Avery was Schneider’s _girlfriend_. The woman he laughed with in his apartment at night. The woman he brought to family dinners and squeezed her hand and maybe wanted to make bespectacled babies with one day.

 

The churning in her gut started up again.

 

At this rate, she could open up her very own butter factory.

 

_What the hell was wrong with her?_

**Author's Note:**

> The next installment will be a direct continuation of this, also from Pen's POV. Let me know how I got on writing for her, 'cause I was nervous as hell stepping outta my Schneider comfort-zone haha


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